Pon Faerie
by Farfalla
Summary: The classic episode 'Amok Time', retold in iambic pentameter as if it happened in the days of Shakespeare. Spock is half-Faerie instead of half-Vulcan, and, oh yeah, um, Kirk's a noblewoman.... *this is K/S, but it is het*


Pon Faerie:  
Amok Time as a het K/S fairytale_by Farfalla  
** Beta-read by Hypatia, Leiabelle, katana, and Blue  
Feedback to: blueberrysnail @ yahoo.com**_

* * *

A white and wooden trellis damp with dew  
Stands decorated by a pair of vines  
Two plants of diff'ring flowers, gold and blue,  
Uplift each other, towards the sun entwine  
  
Within a seaside valley rich and green  
The Countess Jana Kirk made her abode  
Her smile had charm like few had ever seen,  
A leader of quick mind she was, she showed.  
  
With two, she was the closest of the town  
A scientist named Spock, who worked alone,  
And then the doctor with the friendly frown  
Who knew just how to set a broken bone.   
  
One summer day, the Countess left her home  
To visit Mr. Spock within his lab  
The nearby sea was white with windy foam  
Upon the beach were signs of clam and crab.  
  
As Jana reached the residence of Spock   
The doctor intercepted her and spoke  
The scientist seemed suffering from shock,  
His recent odd behavior was no joke.  
  
Unusual anger coursed through every vein,  
A fire of turmoil blazed in darkened eyes  
The doctor wondered why he'd turned insane  
But questioning had yielded no replies.  
  
The Countess vowed to solve the mystery  
And opened up the gate to see her friend  
In time to view the doctor's young niece flee,  
A bowl of porridge hurled at her back end.  
  
Spock shivered in the doorway, blazing heat  
The Countess asked him what had turned him so;  
He went back in and offered her a seat  
And told her such a tale of secret woe.  
  
His mother was a native, village-born  
But unbeknownst to most, one-half his soul  
Was Faerie, from his father, on a morn  
Enchanted, when the dawn rose from the shoal.  
  
The Countess knew about his hidden blood  
And never she his pointed ears forgot  
But now she was to learn that Faerie bud  
Must bloom to Faerie flower, or live not.  
  
By dawn upon the thirtieth fair year,  
Since any Faerie man's first day of birth,  
A bride he must have chosen, someone dear,  
Or else to dust he'll turn, and leave this earth.  
  
The Countess knew Spock's hardship more than most  
His brains intimidated village folk  
His honesty left little friends to boast  
Not many saw beyond the shadowed cloak.  
  
And so no woman he had found to wed  
And no fair maid, he thought, would have his heart  
His father, in tradition, sought instead  
And for his scheduled bride he'd soon depart.  
  
The anger that he'd spent upon the world  
Was proof of the enchantment that he felt  
Tonight the wedding flags would be unfurled,  
Or else at dawn he'd fade away and melt.  
  
"I need your help," Spock begged and took her hand.  
The Countess said she'd serve as best she could.  
She'd find some horses to traverse the land  
And they would ride that night to deepest wood.  
  
Where Faerie rings were danced in eveningset,  
And flowers grew in shadows mossy brown  
Where pairs of glowing eyes he'd never met  
Would mock at him, for coming from the town.  
  
The Countess dearly wanted Spock to live  
She hurried to the stables, skirts like wings,  
And saddled up the horses they could give  
She hoped they were prepared for Faerie rings.  
  
The Bishop crossed her path and barred the way  
Prevention of her journey was his goal:  
"You must not take these horses north today;  
To meet a Faerie is to lose your soul."  
  
"I have to save my friend," the Countess cried,  
And pleaded for exceptions, mercy, grace,  
But still her loyal persistence was denied,  
She took both steed and stigma from that place.  
  
At sundown, Spock, and his two only friends,  
Began their trek through forest, field, and hill  
Their travels curving round so many bends  
Of twilight-darkened trees, all dim and still  
  
The Countess watched the man with pointed ears  
Asserting to herself that this was right  
Relinquishing this friend she'd had for years  
To Faeriefolk and bride he'd meet tonight.  
  
She couldn't tell the thoughts within Spock's mind  
Enchantments were the center of his soul  
He stopped the horses, sensing of his kind  
And seeking them before he lost control   
  
Then here, the Faeries danced in eveningset  
In lights that no sun shone upon this place  
The mystic ground with heady dew was wet  
And moss dripped down the branches like fine lace.  
  
The wedding party came to meet the three,  
And at the lead, bestrode the Faerie Queen  
She rode upon a dragon regally  
With scales of purest gold and tinge of green  
  
Behind her on a unicorn of gray,  
A Faerie maid with sleek milk-chocolate hair  
The loveliest of all the female Fae   
Dismounted when she saw that Spock was there.  
  
The Queen looked coldly at Spock's retinue,  
"No Human may exist here!" she exclaimed.  
"Are thee Fae or are thee Human? Which is true?"  
A verbal spear at Spock's poor heart she aimed.  
  
"I burn," was all the poor enchanted man  
Could stammer from his flushed and gasping lips  
"Then this is as it was since time began,"  
She answered, as he tapped his fingertips.  
  
The Faerie maid stepped forward on the lawn  
And towards her silver presence Spock did go,  
But as he reached to soothe the coming dawn,  
She threw out both her hands and shouted, "No!"  
  
"This man is not a Faerie," she declared  
"He brings his Human friends to secret lands  
I cannot be defiled by what he's shared  
And that is why I threw out both my hands!"  
  
The wedding party buzzed in scandal's hum   
And Jana and the doctor looked confused   
The Halfling's heart was beating like a drum,   
He felt his fiery blood could not be soothed   
  
"It *is* her right," the Faerie Queen intoned   
"And I have little patience for thy dearth,   
"A Faerie is not meant to live alone,   
Without a bride thou cannot walk the Earth!"  
  
"Have I a chance?" the Halfling whispered low   
"No way to prove or earn my Faerie blood?"   
"A test for thee I'll give, that we may know,"   
The Faerie Queen looked down on him as mud.  
  
"Thy human friend, this damsel, Countess Kirk,   
If thou wouldst dare to act and stop her breath,   
And mark that which you do, you do not shirk   
Then thee would prove thy Fae blood by her death."  
  
In darkness, Spock did beg upon his knees   
Until the stars of midnight were above   
And then, enchantments growing by degrees   
Consumed him, twisted Spock towards Faerie Love.  
  
"He cannot hold his heart against the urge,"   
The Countess sadly, softly, turned and said.   
"My friend will die without the chance to merge   
"Accepted will he be if I am dead."   
  
"You'll have to run away," the doctor cried.   
"There's horses for us both, if soon we leave."   
"But what of Mr. Spock?" Dame Kirk replied.   
"I'd sacrifice myself for his reprieve."   
  
"Protect yourself, you fool! He's going mad!"   
The doctor waved his arms in frantic swirls   
"I can't abandon him; do not be sad,"   
The moonlight glinted from her golden curls.   
  
The Halfling was upon her as she spoke,   
The cloud of thick enchantment in his eyes   
"Just let me salve her pain!" the doctor choked,   
Revealing in his hand a vial small sized .   
  
"But death is death," the Faerie Queen expressed.   
"But yet, I still can ease her suffering,   
It is *our way*," the earnest man confessed.   
"Then thou may enter in our Faerie Ring."   
  
And barely did the doctor give the draught,   
When Spock with ill alacrity attacked,   
The Faerie with the chocolate tresses laughed,   
The Countess fell, her vision's light gone black.  
  
Her body lay across the dewy moss   
A shroud of mist around her shoulders wrapped   
The Halfling stood in shock, enchantment lost   
The horror of his spell forever snapped  
  
He trembled as he raised his ashen face   
To meet the stares of all assembled Fae   
The doctor in the moonlight prayed for grace   
And hovered where the Countess Jana lay.  
  
"I cannot live this life," the Halfling said,   
And sunk down to his knees before the host.   
"Thou prov'st thyself, the human maid is dead,"   
"The bride thou seekst is thine, and I give toast."  
  
The Halfling turned away from Faerie bride,   
Preparing for his ever-destined end,   
"I'll not survive this dawning day," he sighed,   
"For I have killed my Countess, and my friend."  
  
He lifted Jana's body in his arms   
And bid goodbye to all the Faerie force   
Returning towards the human towns and farms,   
The doctor riding on the other horse.  
  
As butter-yellow streaks began to grab   
The edges of the coming azure dawn   
The Halfling gave instructions for his lab   
His friend would need it after he was gone.  
  
The doctor opened up his mouth to speak   
But Spock ignored him, shadows in his eyes   
A teardrop of regret caressed his cheek   
As light began to fill the morning skies  
  
"I loved you, you were all I ever saw,   
"A perfect being, soulmate-out-of-reach,   
"If only I'd a way your face to thaw...   
"Repair this trust that evilly I breached."  
  
Spock's tears rained down upon her silky hair   
He fell against her flesh to sleep, to die,   
But what a wonder-- life was beating there--!   
And as the sun ascended in the sky,  
  
Her hazel eyes emerged from lashes gold   
And color did return to lips rose-pink   
Her fingers met with Spock's, and then behold,   
Their kiss took both souls back from farthest brink.  
  
"I only made you sleep," the doctor grinned.   
"But what of Spock? Is he still Faerie-chained?"   
"You did not speak?" she asked of Spock-- still pinned   
"I didn't know you loved me," Spock explained.  
  
Kirk saved Spock's life by giving him her hand,   
The Bishop's mind was soothed by Faerie blur   
Forgotten every word of Faeries, and   
He hadn't excommunicated her.  
  
A white and wooden trellis damp with dew   
Stands decorated by a pair of vines   
Two plants of diff'ring flowers, gold and blue,   
Uplift each other, towards the sun entwine   
  
And in the stars their flowers melt and merge,   
Where Human love can conquer Faerie urge.   
  


* * *

  
_Thank you for reading! This poem was inspired mostly by Amok Time but wound up sounding like a cross between Midsummer Night's Dream (or Iolanthe) and Romeo & Juliet. It's also a somewhat Mozart-opera version of Spirk ;-) _


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